The Art of First Impressions
by GraceBe
Summary: Set during Season 3, episode 1. Isobel and Dickie Merton share a first conversation...


**The Art of first Impressions**

Lost in her own thoughts, Isobel looked at the painting and listened half-heartily to Cora's little discourse about the portrait from della Francesca and the mathematical precision of his art work. She had heard all about the painting already three times since she had moved to Yorkshire and had grown tired of the subject, but it was less tiring than than the DowagerÄs bad mood. She had joined Cora and Lord Merton, because Cousin Violet was still miffed about the the ugly interlude at the dinner table.

Her feathers were ruffled, because Matthew had asked Sybil's husband Tom Branson to be his best man, after Larry Grey, Lord Merton's son had spiked Tom's drink. To Isobel's amazement and annoyance the only thing the Dowager cared for was that the young man had nothing to wear and even worse, didn't look as if he wanted to wear anything but his usual brown tweet. Isobel was highly amused by the whole thing, but she knew they had to do something about Tom Branson and his lack of suitable wardrobe sooner or later.

The other reason Isobel had joined Cora's little art lesson was Lord Merton. There was something about him that aroused her curiosity.

Behind them someone cleared their throat and interrupted Isobel's thoughts. The small group turned to find Carson standing in the door frame.

"The Dowager is leaving, Mylady" the butler announced in his best Carson manner. Cora thanked him and smiled at Lord Merton. "Please, excuse me, but I need to talk to Mama before she leaves. I'll be right back."

"Please give her my best," Merton said. "I hope she will forgive Larry his stupid little scheme."

Isobel doubted it, but she wisely kept that to herself and contented herself with watching Lord Merton. He was an impressive figure, very tall and suave with attractive features – and married. His wife had been sitting next to Robert at the table, but Isobel hadn't talked to her so far. She quickly turned her head and looked at the painting. Somehow the painting seemed safer to look at. Once Cora was gone Merton turned his attention towards Isobel. She sensed his lingering eyes on her and felt heat rising within her stomach.

"So, you're the mother of the lucky groom." It was a statement, not a question and Isobel finally faced him with a bright smile. So far they hadn't exchanged more than a formal greeting, yet it felt as if they had known each other far longer than these few hours.

"I am," she confirmed. "And you are Mary's godfather? It's strange we've never met before."

"Indeed," he agreed. "But I'm glad that has changed now. Robert's told me, you used to live in Manchester."

"Yes, we did."

"Don't you miss it?" he asked curiously. "Yorkshire is not what I would call a vibrant stimulating place."

"I like it," she answered truthfully. "I've found a way to keep myself occupied."

"May I ask with what?"

His genuine interest intrigued her, but she didn't quite know what to make of it. The man's demeanour was so very different from his son's that it was hard to imagine they were actually related. If it weren't for the looks, she would have said, the two men had nothing in common.

"I'm involved with the hospital. My husband was a doctor and I trained as a nurse."

"How interesting. What was his field?"

"He was a paediatrician," she answered and a hint of sadness filled her voice. "He died many years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that." He turned his head to have a look at the painting. Was it her imagination or did a shadow cross his face? Then she remembered what Cora had told her about the Grey family.

"Cora told me, you and Lady Merton almost cancelled tonight's dinner, because she was not feeling well. I'm glad she feels better." Otherwise I wouldn't have met you, she added silently and scolded herself for the direction her thoughts were taking.

He scoffed sourly and a strange smile curved his lips. "We don't know what's wrong with her. The Doctors haven't expressed an opinion yet."

"I'm sorry to hear that." The way he described it certainly didn't sound very encouraging and she felt the sudden need to console him. "I'm sure, they will find a way to help her."

He shrugged, "As a matter of fact, I'm not so sure. Ada's health has been declining rapidly for weeks. You know, she survived the Spanish flu, but she has never completely recovered."

"It's a vile decease," Isobel confirmed pensively and remembered Lavinia and her cruel, untimely death.

"It's strange to see her like this," he said, but Isobel had the feeling he was more talking to himself than to her. "She was always so strong and... wayward and now she's just a shadow of her former self."

"People change when they are ill."

"I know." He sighed and smiled at her. "I shouldn't have told you this. It was not very gallant of me. Please, forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," Isobel said quickly, avoiding the eye contact he wanted to establish. She felt how she blushed and asked herself why she suddenly felt so flustered in his presence. "I hope Lady Merton will recover soon."

"We hope for the best," he said.

The noise of high heels hitting the wooden floor interrupted the silence that had settled in. It was Cora.

"There I am!" Directed at Isobel, she said. "Mama's gone home, but she asks, if you're free tomorrow morning. I warn you, I'm afraid she's up to something."

"Why am I not surprised?" Isobel rolled her eyes.

Merton cleared his throat, "Excuse me, please, Ladies, but I think Robert asked me for a game of pool."

"Of course," Cora said with a graceful smile. Merton gave her a nod and then he looked at Isobel.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs Crawley."

"Thank you."

"I hope we'll meet again at the wedding."

Isobel returned his smile. "Yes, that would be nice."

It was only after he had left the room that Isobel realized how nice it would be if she saw him again.


End file.
